Partner and Alloy
by Bamboo Tora
Summary: The past doesn't die. The future doesn't wait. The definition of a person is their choices. Partnership is full of stutters, skips, grinds, and misses. Good thing they're mechanics.
1. Round The World

Disclaimer: I make no claims to the known characters in this tiny work of fiction. I do not own Iron Man, still. I also do not own Rag'n'Bone. What I do own is half a ChapStick and a bulk bag of SweetTarts. Make of that what you will.

Prologue: Round the World

Rag'n'Bone- Only Human

Ivan rested his back against the bed frame, legs stretched out along the floor of his dim, cave-like rooms in Moscow. Behind him on the thin mattress his father's corpse was growing cold.

Calloused fingers wrapped around the neck of a half empty vodka bottle. Flexing his heavily tattooed arm and raising his chin, he brought the drink to his lips and tipped it almost vertically. A flood of smooth, icy liquor poured over his teeth to hit the back of his throat. He swallowed, bringing the bottle back down, all without his eyes moving from the screen in front of him.

His steady gaze locked onto Tony Stark's pleased smile. Iron Man - Ivan's lip lifted into a sneer - a hero.

In his mind, his father's dying lament festered - 'That should have been you.'

The man who had been Anton Vanko had been murdered years before. He had been spurned by his country, hollowed out and ruined by a Stark. And though the catalyst for his father's destruction was long dead, Tony Stark was his father's son. He was a thief and a murderer, sitting atop his stolen fortune and basking in the public's adulation.

It would take but a tap to crack the other man's carefully curated persona.

Ivan wiped his mouth with the back on his hand, feeling the grim smile that had grown there. Spread across his lap lay a blueprint. Neatly printed at the bottom were two names: Howard Stark and Anton Vanko. It was all that his father had claimed he had to give him.

From the corner of his eye he could see a pale, frozen hand. Ivan's fingers squeezed around the neck of liquor bottle.

Just a tap.

…...

Quentin Dooley was kicked back at the coffee shop a block over from one of his targets, piggybacking off the poorly secured wifi connection. He'd been in Cleveland for over three months and yesterday was the first time Stane had missed their check in.

He wondered if it meant the man's house of cards had finally toppled. He'd be unsurprised, not that he would have called Stane out on his poor planning.

In his youth Quentin had made the mistake of haste, of misreading the people around him. It had cost him eight years in jail, any hope of a career, and part of his face. Meanwhile the smug bitch responsible rose swiftly in power and prestige.

Angela Harper; He remembered the way her false ease had evaporated, how horror had painted it's way across her face. His fingers twitched on his keyboard. Her pulse had beat against his palms like a trapped bird, but it had only lasted a moment.

Her eyes had sharpened, her jaw jutted and there had been an explosion of pain. He was pinned to the floor under some long haired security guard before he could retaliate. The fear and helplessness had been his, then.

When Stane had found him he'd been back to basics, making or augmenting tech, selling information. The cesspool the older man claimed to have dragged him from was, in reality, a front office. Stane had known his price, however, and presented him with yet another convenient third party.

Quentin should have known better. He'd taken a few swipes at Harper through proxies in the past, but it'd never worked out. The woman could be paranoid and vicious.

Next to him the chatter from a group of college age kids huddled around a laptop rose in volume. His attention caught on the words 'Stark' and 'robot battle.' One of the girls turned to her friend. "Do you think there's people in all of them? I mean if Tony Stark is in one…"

Frowning, Quentin navigated to a news site for the LA area. He watched through a few video clips which culminated in a report about an explosion at Stark Industries and a press conference. The timing could have been a coincidence, and the news hadn't said anything about Stane, but Quentin thought it might be a good time to reconsider his plans, again.

He was tired of losing.

…...

Mike finished his meeting with the family of the man he'd just performed a bypass on. It was one of the good ones where, barring anything unforeseen, the man should make a full recovery. The family was overjoyed and, after they left, he lingered in the meeting room soaking up the good vibes. Through the open door the chattering from the main office slowly gained his attention.

The group who ran the front office of Surgery were usually a subdued bunch in deference to tense loved one's in the waiting area across the hall. Raised voices from them meant there was something worth knowing. Curious, Mike rose to his feet and made his way out toward the service desk.

When he got close enough to pick out words, one of the customer service reps exclaimed, "Just because Stark stopped some psycho robot on the freeway doesn't make him a hero."

Mike's steps momentarily faltered.

"I don't know." Arjun spun his chair toward the rear of the desk, caught sight of Mike, and jerked his chin in greeting. "I think saying that 'he stopped a psycho' anything would qualify him for hero-ship," he argued.

"That thing was throwing around cars with people in them," Becca, a nurse, pointed out. She tapped one of her fingernails on the desk top and cocked a hip.

Throwing cars? A feeling of dread burrowed its way into Mike's stomach. He forced himself forward on stiff legs.

"It was his company's robot," the service rep, Sarah, argued.

"So they say, but he still stopped it," Arjun pointed out. "Personally went out there and stopped it."

"Stark?" Mike circled the desk to stand beside Becca. "Tony Stark?" The last he'd heard his sister was staying with the man, which brought its own set of concerns as Stark was fairly well known for - a lot of things - chief among them bad decisions. He had a horrible feeling he wasn't going to like whatever had the front office buzzing. "What's going on?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "So apparently there was some big explosion at Stark Industries Los Angeles last night."

Mike's eyes flew wide.

"No, no," Arjun shook his finger. "Start from the beginning."

"Was anyone hurt?" Mike's chest squeezed in concern. With the internal restructuring at SI his sister was working out of a satellite lab. There was no reason that he could think of that she'd be at the factory, but then Genie was often places she shouldn't be.

"No. I mean there was property damage, and a couple people on the freeway had some minor injuries, but no casualties," Sarah informed.

He tried to mask how much relief he felt at that statement.

"Which is amazing after seeing that metal monstrosity blowing up a bus," Arjun enthused.

Cutting his hand through the air, Mike stalled the renewed chatter. "Back up. What happened?"

Becca pulled her cell from the pocket of her scrubs. Mike gave it a disapproving side eye. "What?" She asked defensively. "I'm on break." She queued up a video and set it to play. "So last night there was this fight on the 110 between a giant silver man-shaped robot, which was apparently an SI prototype, and two smaller red and gold robots. Except one of the red and gold one's wasn't a robot. It was a suit of armor."

Mike listened as Becca laid out what facts the news channels had put together. When she started talking about the second red and gold figure his shoulders stiffened as premonition rolled down his spine. Even Genie couldn't be that crazy, right?

"See, look." She paused the video and pointed to the smaller of the brightly painted machines. "Look at the way the waist nips in, look at the structure of the torso." Her eyes darted challengingly toward Sarah. "That is a woman."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I wasn't arguing with you about that. I was pointing out that you have an absurd crush on a celebrity you have never met in real life and it's coloring your opinions. It's sad."

"Anyway," Becca dismissed the other woman and started the video again. The tiny. undeniably female, red and gold figure took off into the sky. "The news has been all over it since Stark came out as the pilot for the other suit."

Mike bit back a noise of dismay and nodded stiffly. Becca cast a quick, confused glance at him and then continued, pausing to show him the press conference Stark had held.

By the end of it Mike thought he might vomit. Counting backwards from ten did nothing to take the edge off his temper, neither did repeating the exercise in French and German. He needed to call his sister. He needed to call Molly.

"Hey, you alright?" Arjun leaned up toward him. "You're red, man."

He needed to get out of the current conversation. Mike wasn't the type of man to share his personal life around work. He certainly wasn't going to be the type who had a melt down in-office. Besides, until he heard from Genie he couldn't be sure she was involved. A bitter, sarcastic part of him laughed in the back of his head. It was just the sort of thing his sister would get involved with.

"Yeah, just starting to feel the come down from the op," he lied. He planted his hands on the desk top and pushed away. "I've got another consultation coming up and I need to check in upstairs. Thanks for the gossip."

It was more abrupt then he would have liked, but he needed to get away and think about things. Heading for his office, he decided he'd call Molly first. She should be free between lectures.

…...

"Oh, I heard all about it," his wife sighed. "I could barely keep my second class under control, and I swear half of them still weren't paying attention."

Mike ran a hand down his face, tilting back in his chair. "Yeah, I walked in on a debate about whether Stark is a hero or not. Almost couldn't get the gist of what happened because of it."

"It's interesting how polarizing the issue is," Molly agreed. "I'd love to sit in on an ethics, government, or sociology lecture today."

"Molly," he groaned.

"Fine, spoil my nerd moment," she huffed. "That wasn't what seemed to be distracting my class today anyway, it was more speculation about who the woman with Stark was."

The noise that escaped him would not be out of place if he was dying a dramatic death.

"There was some talk that it was an android, but Stark Industries has been suspiciously mum on the topic. It makes me think they're protecting someone. Stark coming out certainly seemed unscripted," she mused.

"You're calmer than I expected," Mike commented, trying not to dwell on his desire to fly to Malibu. It was only a five hour flight. He could get there, punch Stark's teeth in and be dragging his sister back to Cleveland before morning.

She gave a huff of disagreement. "Don't mistake me, if it is Genie then I am going to be furious. This is going to come out, Mike. And then what?"

"They'll dig into her background," he postulated miserably.

"And they'll find us," Molly agreed. "How long before the reporters show up? And with them will come the crazy people. They're already holding back a mob in front of Stark Industries Corporate."

He could hear the frustration in her voice and felt horrible that his sister potentially put them in that situation. He knew he was jumping to conclusions, but with the way Genie had been acting… She was into something far bigger than her, and he knew she wouldn't stop until she saw it through.

Last time he'd talked to her she had seemed alright. She had been tired and sounded somewhat discouraged. It was only in hindsight that he realized how quick she'd been to switch the conversation off of herself.

"What do you think we should do?" He wondered, hoping his wife could work her magic and stifle his steadily building ire.

"Well, I think the first thing is to call your sister. We could be working ourselves up over nothing," Molly cautioned.

True, but… "You don't think its nothing," he prodded.

There was a long silence from her end of the phone. "I think Genie is prone to acting before she thinks at times." With a sigh she assured him, "She's not being malicious, hun. Genie has always tried to do the right thing. Remember how she acted when she found out Professor Holden was hassling me?"

He grunted again in displeasure. "I still can't believe you told her before me," he griped.

"I didn't tell her," she denied, "She pieced things together. She's good at that, you both are. The point is, that instead of thinking about the consequences of ruining the man's career, she simply did it. I'm not saying it didn't work out," she demurred. "It's just that her desire to fix things gets away from her. She's not exactly delicate when she comes up against a problem."

"I know." He leaned forward and rested his arms against his desk. "I do, but I am so angry with her right now. How many times am I going to have to just go along for the ride with her? I've tried talking to her and it's like she just dismisses my concerns. And it's getting worse."

Molly hummed in agreement. "She's had some traumatic instances recently. Things are shifting for her. You know she would never purposefully put us in danger, especially the kids. If I didn't keep tight reigns on the two of you, you'd both spoil them rotten."

Mike's head shot up from where it had sagged over his arms. "Back up. What?"

His wife took in a long breath and gave a tisk, something he'd come to associate with her believing she'd said something out of turn. "We're both upset. I tell you what, I'll cancel my last class. We'll see if Alisse can take the kids for a few hours."

He cut off her prevaricating. "Molly, why would our kids be in danger?"

There was another long moment of dead air before Molly carefully explained. "She was almost kidnapped. You said it was because of the thing keeping her alive. You were vague on it."

"Because she was vague on it," he defended.

"Well, exactly," she pointed out. "Did it never cross your mind that the reason she was so tight lipped was because it was dangerous? That's how I took it. If what you think is right and it really is her, don't you think people are going to want that tech too?"

"Son of a bitch," he whispered, eyes wide and shoulders tense. He could feel the flush run up his neck.

"Michael," Molly warned.

"Damn it! You weren't joking about the crazies! I'm gonna kill her!" He swore.

"And there goes your temper," she chided.

Mike ran a hand roughly through his hair. Molly was right. Reporters were disruptive enough, and he always knew there were bad people in the world, but the presence of those people had been very recently brought home.

They'd held his sister at gunpoint over suspicion of new tech. The whole world just saw that there was tech out there beyond their dreams. Stark was going to be under constant threat of people trying to steal it from him. Some of those people would have no qualms over getting violent. And his blind, bull-headed, sister had possibly just thrown herself right into the middle of it.

Molly was talking again. He tried to steady his breathing and listen. "Go home," she ordered. "You're in no state to be doing your job."

"I have consults," he muttered.

"Have Jordan do them. He owes you for covering for him last month," she commanded in her no-nonsense voice. "I'm cancelling class. I'll pick up the kids and meet you at home."

He dithered over her suggestion, but his heart was pounding in his chest and his free hand was still clenched tightly into a fist. "Jesus, I'm gonna…"

"Go home is what you are going to do," Molly scolded. "We both need to calm down and we need to talk about this. Rashness will not help."

"No, she's the only one that gets away with that." He wasn't angry at Molly but he couldn't stop himself from lashing out. He'd reached his breaking point. Knowingly or not, his sister had put his family in danger.

"Don't convict her without a trial. You haven't even talked to her. You don't know she was involved," Molly cautioned. "No one knows she was involved."

"Yet," he argued. "It's a matter of time."

"Maybe," she conceded. "I'm packing up now. Go find Jordon and then come home."

"Right." Given his marching orders, Mike bid his wife goodbye and stood from his desk. He clenched his fist around his cell phone, still feeling the Dugan family temper raging through him. He should have seen it coming. He just couldn't believe his sister had been so irresponsible.

With a frustrated grunt he grabbed his jacket and went in search of his colleague.

…...


	2. A Respectable Illusion

Disclaimer: I make no claims to the known characters in this small bout of fancy. I don't own Gert Taberner or Iron Man. I do, however, own a windmill, half a roll of duct tape and a pitch fork. Make of that what you will.

Chapter 1: A Respectable Illusion

Gert Taberner - In Need

Angela sat on one of the caramel colored stools in the living room, eyes looking out to sea. To one side of her the television played, stopped on a news channel that was picking apart any piece of footage it could get from the freeway fight. On the other side, JARVIS was busy on her laptop, pulling up any new information about Iron Woman he thought was relevant. A tension headache was drilling its way steadily across her forehead from each of her temples, perhaps trying to make a tunnel through her obviously defective frontal lobe.

It had been almost an hour and a half since the end of the press conference. While the talking heads were deeply embroiled in debates over legality and accountability, the real story emerging was the mystery: Who was Iron Woman?

The front door opened, the sound of clicking heels and two sets of heavier steps drawing Angela's attention from the windows. She shifted around to face into the house, almost immediately meeting a pair of whiskey colored eyes. She must have had an interesting expression on her face because the man who owned them stilled like a prey animal.

Pepper and Happy continued into the living room, taking seats and jarring Angela out of her stare down. She drew in a long, steadying, breath through her nose, all the while reminding herself that assault was a crime.

"So," Pepper began, balancing her laptop on her knees, "We have a few options." Across from her Tony settled himself down on a stool.

Angela turned her gaze from the red head back to her impulsive lab partner, eyes half lidded in a glare. "Before we get into that I think Tony and I need to have a conversation."

The man in question straightened up, rolling his shoulders back. "Is it going to be conversation or are you just going to yell at me?" He raised an eyebrow. "Because you look like you want to yell at me."

"I do," she confirmed, stiffening her own spine.

"Well then that's not a conversation," he pointed out lightly, "Those have two sides."

Her expression tightened further, voice going snide. "And you were so interested in my side when you made an announcement..."

Tone glib, he interrupted her. "I have actual reasons for that."

She continued despite his interjection. "…That affected both of us during a live press conference."

"Exactly," Tony clipped, "It was live. That wasn't phone a friend time."

"Which is why you should have called me before," she chastised.

"I didn't plan it..." Tony started.

Angela leaned toward him accusingly. "So, it was a snap decision."

"…and I couldn't call you." Irritation colored his words. "Agent was hovering."

She thrust a hand out toward him angrily. "Because he was supposed to keep you on card for our alibi."

Tony tilted his head condescendingly. "An alibi which would have kept us from claiming the suits publicly…"

"Which was the whole point," she drawled. Really, the idea of a cover story was to cover for something.

His voice rose slightly as he spoke over her. "…And would have opened us up to theft or coercion."

Angela paused.

At her silence Tony's eyebrows rose in mock discovery. "Yeah. Not a nice thought." He leaned back before driving his point home. "Secrets, they're a great way for people to dig their claws into you. They would have had backdoor access to both of us. "

Pursing her lips, Angela contemplated the situation they would have been left in. Her nose wrinkled at the realization that she'd been so eager to remain anonymous she'd missed that bit of manipulation. "Okay," she conceded. "Okay, so you have a point with that."

"More than a point." His mouth thinned into a lopsided, unhappy slash. "The story they wanted to tell meant anyone could have made that tech."

She felt herself slowly shaking her head. "Tech worn by SI bodyguards, only foolish people would believe it wasn't made by SI," she argued softly.

"They didn't specify SI bodyguards," he informed her. "Only that they were mine. That could have meant third party." Giving a one shouldered shrug, he echoed her head shake. "If it's not explicitly stated…"

"Then it can be interpreted," she finished.

They'd rolled story ideas around the night before but hadn't gotten far due to exhaustion. SI bodyguards had been mentioned as a more PR friendly excuse than androids or drones. The public did not need to start equating SI with Cyberdyne. Angela wondered whose decision it was to not specify the bodyguards were from SI and whether it was malicious.

"Exactly," he hummed. "Who would've ended up footing the bill for the damages then?" He asked leadingly.

"We agreed on using the excuse of an SI robotic prototype for Stane's suit." She crossed her arms over her chest, lips parted and brows furrowed as she put the pieces together. "The company would have been on the hook regardless."

Face grim he added, "With none of the goodies nailed down as ours."

"And even if an argument could successfully be made that the suits were SI property they would be susceptible to the board," she realized. A sour look settled over her face.

"With Obie's…" He paused uncomfortably. "…Stane's, shares temporarily out of play, I can get the injunction overturned. But not until his death is announced. In the interim the board could decide to do something stupid, like try to recover from bad press and shore up uncertain investors by making promises I would refuse to keep." Angela's jaw slacked in dawning horror. "Muddy the water with some personal attacks, the announcement of possible lawsuits, and it wouldn't matter if I did tell the truth."

"Good God." Her voice broke high in distress.

"I had to make the claim." Tony looked tired and irritated. "There has to be transparency. If everything's not lit up someone is going to start nibbling on us."

She rubbed her hands under her eyes and let her shoulders round. "Alright. I get it." Glancing up at him from the cradle of her palms, she challenged, "All of that occurred to you just then?"

"Yup." He dipped his chin, comfortable with his quick intelligence.

From beside them Pepper asked in a rueful tone, "You couldn't have explained it that way earlier?" Angela jerked, barely having remembered that she and Happy were in the room.

"To be fair, he did, just not as clearly," Happy excused.

Tony flipped a hand in acknowledgement.

"Fine," Pepper conceded unhappily, "But it does not change the mess we have now. We're still going to have to come out with a statement about the female suit."

Tony shrugged, stretching his legs out in front of him. "That's on Panda."

Everyone's eyes turned to Angela.

Lacing her fingers together, she hid her mouth against the back of her hand and considered. She leaned back and dropped her hands to her lap, not pleased with her conclusion. "If I don't claim Iron Woman, but she keeps being seen, they'll go after the only one they know."

Tony met her eyes with a calm, accepting look. "I'm okay with that." A hint of grin touched the corner of his mouth. "I'm a hard man to catch."

"Wait." Pepper's attention bounced between the two engineers. "Why would you need to keep using the suits?"

"My weapons are still out there," Tony answered easily. He jogged his chin to the side in a half shrug. "That hasn't changed."

Pepper jerked back in denial, ponytail flicking behind her. "The military will not allow you to run private revenge missions, Tony."

"Nope," he agreed, popping the 'p' on the word. "Which is why I'll have to schedule a meeting." He turned to Angela, dipping his jaw in warning. "But they're unlikely to work with someone who's keeping their anonymity. Once you tell them…"

"It'll leak," she acknowledged in defeat. Between the command officers and any other personnel they may have to work with, there was no way her identity wouldn't slip to the public.

A complicated look settled on Tony's face. "You don't have to do this," he reminded her. "You'll have plenty of work setting up my Energy Department. I can do this on my own."

"No." The denial burst out of her before he'd even finished speaking. The idea of Tony out there alone, of leaving him to clean up their mess, was intolerable. "I am not okay with that."

Angela cursed her stupid heart, and knew it had finally maneuvered her into a position where she was guaranteed to get crushed.

"You have family. You announce you're Iron Woman and the press will be all over them," he gently warned.

True. It didn't matter that there wasn't a single person alive who shared her blood. She had a family of choice and her choices would devastate them.

"This is insanity." Pepper's voice held a note of strained incredulity. "Neither of you are responsible for what Oba - for what Stane did."

Tony's countenance darkened. "He never would have been able to do it if I'd been paying attention."

Breathing a sigh through her nose, Angela admitted, "Arguments could be made for or against. They don't matter." Turning to Pepper she added, pain digging into her chest, "I feel responsible."

"Enough to risk your life?" Angela glanced over to meet Happy's solemn expression.

That was a decision she'd already made. It didn't change the weight of her answer. "Yes."

The big bodyguard rocked his head back in acknowledgement. "What about your brother?" He pressed.

Angela closed her eyes, face pinching. It was incredibly selfish to want to continue what she'd started. In light of what it would cost Mike and his family it was almost unforgivable. "There's no good path here," she lamented.

"Yes, there is," Pepper argued. "You can stop." The slight pleading note to the statement only made Angela feel worse.

She tried to imagine it - sitting at home watching weapons she considered hers, chips to casings, blowing up villages on the evening news. And Tony wouldn't quit. He'd come back bruised, exhausted and broken, or not at all. She recoiled from the idea viscerally.

"If I step back this will eat me alive," she admitted.

Tony opened his mouth to speak but the guitar riff from Black Sabbath's Rock and Roll Doctor cut him off. Everyone's attention was drawn to Angela's cell where is lay on the coffee table.

"Oh, crap," Angela whispered. "Mike's timing has always been something," she quipped weakly.

The four grown adults stared at the phone until it quit ringing. It immediately began ringing again. Angela turned to face Tony and swallowed. "Whether I go public or not, and right now it seems that I will, I have to tell him."

His dark eyes darted between hers before he glanced back down at her phone. When he looked up again his mouth was set in a thin unhappy line. "Okay," he conceded.

The muscles in her back relaxed a fraction before tightening back up. "Excuse me." She reached out and swiped her phone, pushing herself to her feet.

Her body felt stiff and ungainly as she walked across the room toward the exit for the deck. Three sets of eyes watched her go.

"Mikey," she greeted.

"I saw the news." Her brother's voice was tight and clipped. There wasn't any noise in the background, and she would bet money that meant he was in the greenhouse. "They have a picture of you and Pepper from the Gala in December. They're comparing it to the measurements of the Iron Woman," he informed.

Damn. She hadn't known about that.

"Seriously? Iron Woman?" He asked incredulous. His voice was already rising in volume.

Angela had reached as far as she was going to get. She picked a chair and small circular table pushed up against a wide, white, curve of wall. The breeze off the Pacific rustled the short hairs at her temples and the dark green leaves of a nearby potted plant.

After a prolonged silence he prompted sharply, "Well?"

"They won't match." Angela winced. That hadn't been what she meant to say.

"Because it's not you?" His question had all kinds of warning layered over it.

Her mind scrambled for a way to explain it, to manipulate the situation so that it seemed like a blip instead of a bomb, but she had nothing. She was tired of trying to manage people, and she deserved his anger for what she was about to do.

"Angela!" Mike barked.

"Because I lost weight in Italy and I haven't gained it all back. Because they have no idea how thick the suit is," she answered back sharper than she wished to. Just because she felt she deserved his resentment didn't mean she had to like it. She cringed when she heard how defensive and shallow she sounded. That would work wonders on his temper.

From the other end of the phone there was silence, then a long string of curses ripped out of her brother. Something crashed and Angela's eyes widened. The last time he'd broken something in rage was when they found out the faulty part on their parent's plane had been passed up by five different inspectors.

After a few moments she could hear his heavy breathing over the line. "What were you thinking?" The question snapped across the connection like a whip.

Angela gritted her teeth and held her own temper with both hands. She hated dealing with her brother when he turned his condescension toward her.

Before she could even begin to answer her brother continued. "No. You know what? I don't need you to answer that. I know what you were thinking. You weren't!"

"That is not true," Angela protested.

"No. It is," he shot back. She pictured him with the horrid ruddy blush he got when he was mad. "Or you wouldn't have pulled this stunt!" He shouted.

Angela felt her grip on her temper slip. "That footage you've obviously seen - that giant silver robot was Obadiah Stane," she clipped. "He took out five federal agents and went on an armed rampage in the middle of a busy freeway!" Attempting to quell her anger she sucked a breath in through her teeth. "What I did last night was not a stunt, it was taking down an attempted murderer before he could kill me and my friends!"

"Do you hear yourself?" Mike demanded incredulously. "Why were you even involved in trying to arrest such a dangerous, and obviously deranged, person? That's what the god damn police are for!"

"Do you have selective hearing?" She wondered, knowing how patronizing she sounded. "Did you miss the part where I said he took out five armed agents?" Angela gripped the edge of the table, crunching forward to hiss into her phone. "Three of them are still in the hospital! He had a gun pointed in Pepper's face!"

"That doesn't mean you go zipping off to duke it out in some robot battle armor!" He boomed. Something clanged violently on his end.

Her fingers quivered from the strain of her grasp on the table. She took a harsh breath, grimacing deeply at the sharp pull through her ribs and the slight crush from the arc. "There were exactly two people who could have gone up against Stane without blowing a chunk out of the city. S.W.A.T. isn't exactly prepared for a flying weaponized suit of armor," she jeered.

"And where the hell did he get a weaponized suit of armor from anyway? Mighty convenient you had one too." Angela felt her entire body flush hot and then cold. Her back muscles locked. "This is exactly what I mean when I say you need to stay out of things. And obviously throwing you and Stark together only makes things worse."

"Are you suggesting he got the blueprints from me?" She cut her brother off mid-rant, volume dropping low and dangerous.

There was a sudden silence from the other end of the line. A small, muffled part of her brain was reminding her that Mike probably didn't mean it that way. "No," Mike answered, voice quieter but still tense. "But he got the idea from somewhere."

"Yes," Angela agreed, words crisp and high. "He stole it from the man he hired terrorists to assassinate. Incidentally, he's the one who sent me to Afghanistan, so that I'd die with Tony." The last of the sentence was spat out like a dagger.

"Tony," Mike muttered, voice dark and hard. "So this is where you're at?" He drawled. "You're going to be part of this cycle of escalation."

The jitters that rode up and down her entire body didn't show in her voice. She was grateful. "You're no more of a pacifist than I am."

"True," her brother conceded. "I would do a lot in the defense of my family. Why do you think I'm so pissed off?" He hissed. "Tell me, did you think once about the kids, about us?"

"Yes," she gritted. "I have thought about you every day. Just because I'm doing things you don't approve of doesn't mean you get to label me callous." She forced her spine to straighten even as her jaw jutted in defiance. "You say you'd fight for the people you care for. I don't understand why you think I should do less."

"Don't tell me what I think," he snapped. "Part of what you did last night might have been for your friends, but don't fool yourself into thinking part of it wasn't for you and your ego." She reeled back at his accusation. "There were better ways to deal with that situation. You may not be completely heartless but you're damn selfish and short sighted."

"Gee Mike," her voice came out husky, "Tell me what you really think about me." Heartless? She swallowed, feeling her face flush and blinking back an unexpected surge of wetness in her eyes.

From her brother's side of the call Angela heard the greenhouse door open, then Molly fussing at her husband about forcing a confrontation before he'd had a chance to calm down. She tuned it out in favor of trying to compartmentalize her feelings about Mike's words. Her brother's temper was not a new beast, but his summary of her character hurt.

"What are you going to do when this comes out?" It took a moment for her to realize he was addressing her again. "Whatever your intentions are, when it does we're all going to be in danger."

She toyed with the collar of her shirt, peering down at the blue glow from her arc reactor. "A security team, maybe." She didn't have a good answer.

"A security team?" An ominous note had worked its way back into his voice. "Are they going to follow the kids around, keep the reporters from hassling them at daycare?"

Dropping her hand to her knee, she half growled in bitter frustration, "What do you want from me?"

"Stop, just stop." The demand came out harsh and guttural. "Stop trying to fix things. Quit looking for things that are wrong and then getting involved. Don't push. Just work and live and be safe, normal," he ended in a plea.

Her eyelids felt unbearably heavy and she let them sink closed. She was suddenly exhausted. "I think we just had this part of the conversation a second ago." She couldn't keep the fatigue from bleeding into her voice.

Mike drew in a deep breath and Angela heard Molly call a sharp, "Michael," in the background.

"Right," Mike mumbled tightly. "I need to get off the phone," he admitted. "Call if you decide to have a sudden bought of sanity," he sneered.

The tone for an ended call played in her ear. Angela pulled her phone back and blinked at the home screen. He'd hung up on her.

Carefully setting the device down on the table, Angela went about trying to shake the feeling back into her numb fingertips.

…...

While Angela was outside the trio inside spent their time hammering out a few variations of a statement. Tony caught himself glancing at the door to the patio several times. He noticed Happy and Pepper doing the same.

When after less than fifteen minutes the glass door opened and Angela stepped back in, Tony immediately knew the call had gone badly. The brunette's face was drawn, her features attempting neutrality but instead radiating a control so aggressive as to be fragile.

She looked up from the floor and paused once she noticed their attention on her. "Would you mind terribly if I opened one of your bottles of wine?"

The overly polite, measured, tone had an underlying tremble to it. His stomach clenched. "Nope. Fine. Open whatever you want."

She crossed the room and set her phone on the counter with a quiet click. Tony watched Angela move around, fetching glasses and peering into one of his wine coolers blankly. When she thought her face was hidden she looked like she was being crushed.

"Try the 2005 Chateau Latour," he suggested.

She hummed, rifling around and pulling out the bottle.

Tony cast a pinched look toward Pepper who met his gaze with widened concerned eyes.

Angela returned with a tray bearing four glasses, a corkscrew, and the bottle. When Tony saw the tremors in her hands he batted her away to pull the cork himself.

"So," she brushed a tendril of hair out of her face. "We need to work on the language for my statement."

Tony handed Angela and Pepper their glasses before filling one up for Happy. From the corner of his eye he saw Pepper lean forward and he just knew the red head was going to ask if Angela was alright. "Let's bait the press for an early evening," he blurted.

Pepper jolted the tiniest bit before falling back on task. "So soon?"

Angela took a deep swallow of her wine. Tony kind of admired the total disrespect for the vintage. Something very bad had happened.

"Hold the skin and rip, like waxing," he quipped. Everyone paused to look at him. Unashamed, he took a sip from his glass. "What? I'm a modern man."

The corner of Angela's lips twitched into the barest of smiles and Tony felt accomplished. When he looked back over to Pepper, Happy caught his eye and grinned encouragingly.

…...

Happy kept one ear on his wife, listening to her and Mr. Stark switch between bickering and actually getting work done. He leaned forward to scan through another private security company's profile from over Angela's shoulder. Sniffing quietly in distain he advised, "Not them." Without question the brunette closed out the profile and Happy couldn't suppress his smug grin.

They continued rifling through a few more dossiers before they came across a personal protection team Happy recognized. He squinted at the screen in consideration. "They're not cheap, but I've run into these guys a few times. I don't recognize him." He tapped at a young blonde's profile. "Looks like they're a man down too. There used to be five of them. But they're ex-military, think the guy in charge was a Marine," he offered. "They're good."

Rubbing a hand over her mouth, Angela mused aloud, "I wonder how they'd do with kids. Reporters show up anywhere."

"Bring it up in the inquiry email. Some of these guys are more willing to take a job if they know there are kids involved," he advised.

Kids involved, sheesh. Happy knew Angela loved her family. She babbled about the kids to Gin all the time. Knowingly putting everyone she had left up for public scrutiny had to be tearing her apart.

She hummed and leaned forward, fingers dancing across her keyboard.

From his pocket Happy's phone beeped. He pulled it out, read the message, and tapped out a response. "Trenton, Chris, and JJ are on their way to the airport. Mr. Stark's set them up on a private flight," he informed.

Angela's typing paused as she looked over her shoulder at him in question.

Happy shrugged. "You know the Boss. They need to be in place by the press conference. He can do it, so he's doing it."

She huffed a breath out her nose before turning back to her computer. "Yeah, well, please make sure they know to route their invoices to me. SI security for a non-SI situation, this is a legal minefield."

"These guys would do it for free, you know? When I sent out word you needed volunteers, Trenton jumped on it." The three men had been packed up and ready within the hour.

Sometimes it was difficult to tell if Angie had befriended people because they could be useful in the future. Happy suspected a lot of her work relationships started that way. She reminded him of the Boss - a prickly customer, but compelling, softer hearted than expected, and good to have on side.

"It's good to be friendly with people, but no." She leaned back and rolled her shoulders. "Besides it looks better if they're contracted out to me officially." She twisted around on her stool to face him. "Thanks, by the way, for helping with that."

Happy gently patted the ball of her shoulder, amused that it fit in the palm of his hand. "You'll land on your feet and the Boss will help you. You know Pep and I will help."

He swallowed thickly as his offer brought back an echo of the terror and panic he'd felt the night before. Subconsciously he locked onto his wife's voice from the other room and his anxiety eased. "Thank you for not stepping away from this, for keeping Pep out of it and for saving her last night."

Never again did he want to hear his wife's voice the way it had sounded when she'd called him. He was lucky he hadn't caused an accident getting to her. And then seeing the explosion from blocks away and having to talk Gin out of rushing back over to the factory before he picked her up. God damn Stane.

"I didn't do a very good job of keeping her out of it last night. She wouldn't have been involved at all if we hadn't sent her." Angela grimaced, self recrimination shining in her eyes. "I am so sorry, Happy."

He'd spent the night before angry enough that he'd barely allowed himself to speak until he and Gin were back home. They'd had a long conversation. The speed and viciousness Angie and the Boss had mustered in defense of his wife went a long way toward cooling his temper. The apology helped though, so he accepted it as it was. "Thanks. I know you didn't mean to put her in that situation. I bet you didn't think twice about going after her either."

"Not for a second." The steadiness in Angie's voice, the surety on her face, made it easier for him to let go of that last little piece of anger.

Gin wasn't happy about Angie's decision, but Happy was relieved. He felt a twinge of guilt. He and Gin were adults. They'd both been around the media and the dangers involved with working for Mr. Stark for years. But Angie's family - they had a nice little slice of quiet life that was about to explode around them.

"I'm grateful for that." The sound of Gin and Tony arguing good naturedly moved closer and Happy hurried to finish. "And I know you're beatin' yourself up about it but I'm glad you're not leaving the Boss alone on this."

A flush of pleasure effused her face before she manage to school it into mock offense. "And let him have all the fun? Never."

"Who's having fun?" Mr. Stark asked, setting another bottle of wine of the table.

Gin settled herself back on the couch, leaning against him and planting a kiss on his cheek in a rare show of public affection. Happy would bet his new gloves she'd heard the end of his and Angie's conversation, which meant the Boss had too.

"You, of course," Angela quipped.

A grin stretched across Mr. Stark's face. "I do have a lot of fun."

"Though I wonder at your definition of the word," Angie teased.

Mr. Stark put a dramatic hand to his chest, leaning back and feigning a wound. "The sass! Do you see what I have to live with Happy?"

A sense of wonder stole through him as he saw his Boss divert the conversation to something light for Angie's benefit, again. "As long as she doesn't kill you, Boss," he tossed back.

The squawk of protest Mr. Stark let out brought a smile to his face.


End file.
